


One Little Candle

by eurydice72



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 20:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurydice72/pseuds/eurydice72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because Spike's chipped, doesn't mean he can't hurt anyone. Darkfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Little Candle

**Author's Note:**

> Set in S4. Originally written for joss_las on LJ. The prompt was candles for a Spike-centric round.

To the casual observer, a single taper, slim and pale, can be completely innocent. Innocuous.

Impotent.

And they would be right for the most part. One candle all on its own can do little damage without the proper ignition.

So he waits. Bides his time. Watches the Watcher grow complacent and oh so lax in his presence. Gathering the supplies he needs is simple. With so much magic and mayhem surrounding the Slayer and her crew, finding enough candles to do the job is as simple as looking into a cupboard. Or nicking them from the witch’s bag. Or taking them from the Watcher’s bath.

It’s even simple to get the sleeping pills to slip into the Watcher’s tea.

The night he picks, he knows the Slayer and her crew will be busy, some balderdash at the Bronze that they’ve been nattering about for days. The Watcher retires early, leaving him to his telly and novelty mug in peace and quiet, and all he has to do is wait until the rhythms from the loft settle into hypnotic ripples through the air. Then he works. The candles are in place and lit within minutes.

Hours pass before the trucks and sirens come screeching to a halt in front of the burning building. Smoke billows in thick clouds against the clear sky, blotting out the stars and silencing their call just as the swarming people along the lawn and in the street attempt to do the same with the fire. Nobody sees him in his corner of darkness, but he sees them, he sees them all, even the Slayer when she appears like a wraith along the periphery of the police tape.

“What did it?” he hears her ask one of the firemen. The flames crackle behind her, but her voice is as clear and cold as the night, ready to battle whatever it is that took her Watcher away from her.

“It looks like he fell asleep with candles burning. The blankets caught on fire first, and then it just spread.”

She accepts the explanation calmly, though even from that distance he can feel the tumult inside her heart. Waiting until she has separated herself from the rest of the crowd, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his lighter, making sure the sound of it opening and closing is audible as he edges out of the shadows.

When she turns to look at him across those many feet, the California smile is gone. The only thing alive in her face is the desolation in her eyes. Spike smirks, salutes, then melts back into the blackness before she can come for him.

He cannot kill the Slayer. Not yet. But he can hurt her. Make her bleed.

Make her burn.

Even a single pale candle can kill, given the proper ignition.


End file.
